


Protege

by Laylah



Category: Infinite Undiscovery
Genre: Blood Drinking, Community: spook_me, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mind Control, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-15
Updated: 2010-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:38:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like calls to like; he can recognize another of his own kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protege

The rest of the Liberation Force are surprised by how much Capell looks like him, but it's another similarity that holds Sigmund's attention. Like calls to like; he can recognize another of his own kind, even if Capell has not yet turned. The signs are there. Somehow Capell escaped being destroyed as an infant, and hid his condition well enough to survive to adulthood, and now he's right on the cusp. He'll turn soon -- possibly he already would have, if the Order hadn't disrupted the natural phases of the moon. Still, even with their interference, it won't be long.

Sigmund has killed others of his kind before, when the change made them violent, made them lose control of their power. They are rare enough that meages barely remember _why_ the unblessed are anathema: when they fall into a blood frenzy, they're as deadly as any beast out of legend. Sigmund can control his urges; he was raised in full knowledge of what he could become, and now he has the inner circle of the Force to provide for his needs before he becomes unable to hold back.

He wants that for Capell, he realizes as they travel toward Burguss. This sweet, shy boy who looks enough like him to be kin -- he should be given a chance.

He sees his opportunity when they arrive in Burgusstadt. King Nestor is as gracious as his reputation paints him, and gives them rooms in the palace. Capell has seemed increasingly agitated for days; the blood spilled in combat is probably affecting him. Sigmund pays careful attention to where the others' rooms are when they split up, and then goes in search of his protege.

"Capell," Sigmund says, catching up to him in the castle's chapel. Legends claim that the unblessed can't cross the threshold onto holy ground, and Sigmund is pleased to see that Capell already knows better. "Will you come with me, please? I have something to share with you."

"Me?" Capell says, eyebrows raised, pointing to himself in disbelief. It would be comical if it weren't so sad; he's managed to hide his state well enough to survive, but only, it seems, at the expense of becoming close to anyone.

That will change now. Sigmund nods. "This way," he says.

There isn't any power in the command -- the suggestion -- but Capell follows without hesitation. "Am I, uh," Capell says. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Not at all," Sigmund says. "I want to help you."

"Oh," Capell says. "Um. Thanks?"

He follows Sigmund up the stairs, into the wing of private rooms on the castle's second floor. It's late in the evening, and most of the Force should have returned to their rooms by now. Sigmund leads the way down the hall, passing doors slowly. He'll want to choose someone strong for this; it's likely to be exhausting.

Edward, he decides. With luck, this might help to disarm some of the rivalry building between them. He knocks at Edward's door.

It opens after only a second's pause. "My lord," Edward says, his tone warm -- but then his expression hardens when he sees Capell in Sigmund's shadow.

"Edward," Sigmund says, and Edward looks him in the eyes. Sigmund holds his gaze. "Be calm," he says, pushing against Edward's mind just slightly. It shouldn't take much. Edward's desire to please him does most of the work. "Invite us in."

Edward swallows hard, and for a moment it looks as though he may be thinking of resisting. But that moment passes, and he steps back from the doorway. "Come in," he says, glancing from Sigmund to Capell and quickly looking back again.

"Thank you," Sigmund says. He crosses the threshold, Capell behind him.

"You know," Capell says, "if this is going to be a problem, I can --"

"There's no problem," Sigmund says. "Stay here. This is important." Capell could resist him more easily, if he knew his own strength -- but he doesn't, and his need will keep him here once the blood flows. "Edward."

"My lord," Edward says.

Sigmund smiles at him, and Edward's need for his approval is so potent he can scent it on the air. "Do you still offer yourself to me?"

Edward's eyes flicker from him to Capell again for an instant. Honor and desire both drive him, apart from any power Sigmund exerts; his jealousy of Capell won't stand against that. "I do, my lord."

"Good," Sigmund says. "Relax." He puts power behind that command and watches Edward's shoulders slump, watches Edward's eyes go unfocused and distant. Capell fidgets, and the scent of fear wafts from him.

"Really," Capell says, "I should just go, and let you --"

"No," Sigmund says. "You need to stay." He turns to catch Capell's eyes; Capell pushes back instinctively against his power, but it's not enough. "You need to know what it means to be what we are."

Capell's eyes go wide, but he doesn't move.

Sigmund pushes Edward down onto the couch in the middle of the room; Edward goes easily, despite how much bigger he is. He moves as though he's drunk, slow and loose-jointed. Perhaps Sigmund was too forceful in commanding him, but fighting both of them would make this a disaster. Edward sits waiting, an invitation, his head tilted back and his hands resting palm-up on his thighs. Sigmund sinks down beside him and leans in, breathing the raw scent of life on his skin, the promise of pleasure. Capell shifts nervously. Sigmund lets his fangs extend, and bites.

Edward shudders, moaning, the sound thrumming against Sigmund's mouth. His blood is rich, bright with copper, heady and luscious with health. Sigmund swallows a mouthful reflexively before he can make himself pull back.

Capell is staring at them, eyes wide, hand clapped over his mouth. He says something, muffled and indistinct.

"You've been feeling the need recently," Sigmund says. He tries to stay calm, though the scent of Edward's blood calls to him, too. "Perhaps you haven't known what it was you needed, but it's been hounding you." He licks his lips. "It happens to any unblessed who survive long enough for the curse to wake."

"I'm not," Capell says, panic in his voice.

Sigmund shakes his head. "You are," he says. "As I am. And if you don't learn to control your need, you'll be overcome by it, and lose yourself in a blood frenzy." He reaches up to wipe away the blood trickling from Edward's throat, then holds out his fingers to Capell. "Come here."

Capell takes a step closer, awkwardly, as if he's fighting himself. "I don't," he says, but doesn't finish the thought.

"Battle has been making you feel alive," Sigmund says. "Making you feel a need you couldn't explain." He watches Capell drift closer, staring in helpless fixation at the blood on his fingers. "You're feeling it again now."

When Capell gets close enough, Sigmund reaches up and touches his lips. Capell's tongue darts out to lick up the few stray drops of blood, and Edward is the one who moans. Capell drops to his knees, clinging to Sigmund's arm with both hands, taking Sigmund's fingers into his mouth and scouring them clean.

"Good," Sigmund says. "You want more."

Capell shudders as Sigmund slides his fingers free. "Yes," he says hoarsely. His fangs are lengthening, making him lisp, and even that small taste makes his eyes brighter, hungry and seeking.

Sigmund picks up one of Edward's hands. "Next time I'll want you to practice biting without doing serious damage. This time," he smiles, "I expect you're too hungry to be careful." He raises Edward's wrist to his lips and bites, delicately, careful to open the veins without catching tendons in the process. Pulling back without letting himself drink is a maddening tease, but he is demonstrating control, he reminds himself. He holds out Edward's bleeding wrist.

Capell's hands are shaking as he leans in. He fastens his lips to the punctures, eyes fluttering closed, and makes a sound like a sob of relief. Edward moans, or possibly slurs an attempt at speech; the lethargy of being bitten takes him hard.

"Yes," Sigmund says, smoothing a lock of dark hair off Edward's forehead. "Thank you, my friend."

He can't bring himself to abstain entirely, but he will try not to drink too deep. He nuzzles at the line of Edward's jaw, easing his way back to the first wound he opened. He swallows the blood, rich and warm, feeling the strength flow into him: the strength of Veros's blessed, which will never be his own, but which the unblessed steal to live.

They can't feed together for long; from the welcoming lethargy Edward slips gently into unconsciousness, and to keep draining him past that point would risk doing him serious harm. Sigmund licks the bite on Edward's throat closed, watching it turn from open punctures to a fresh bruise. He reaches down and squeezes Capell's shoulder. "Time to let him go," he says when Capell looks up.

There's reluctance in Capell's eyes, and Sigmund is prepared to force the issue if necessary, but after a moment's hesitation Capell lets Edward's wrist go. "Wow," he says. "That was -- I feel so --" he looks down at his hands, shaking his head.

"It can be overwhelming," Sigmund agrees. He licks the second bite closed, then rises from the couch so he can carry Edward to bed. Capell stares at him when he lifts Edward's unconscious body with no visible effort.

Edward stirs slightly as Sigmund lays him out across the bed. He mumbles a question, takes a slow breath and tries again: "Was it...enough?"

"It was plenty," Sigmund reassures him, cupping his face in one hand. "Thank you. Now sleep well, and recover your strength." He leans down and kisses Edward's brow, and when he rises again Edward's eyes have closed, but he's smiling slightly as he drifts back to sleep.

"Wow," Capell says softly. "I...don't think I've ever seen him that happy about anything."

Sigmund smiles, wry. "No, I suppose not. Well. I hope it won't be the last time." He looks Capell up and down. "How do you feel?" he asks; he knows the answer, but he wants Capell to pay attention to it.

Capell frowns thoughtfully. "Good," he says after a moment. "Really...I don't know, I should be sick or freaked out or something, shouldn't I? But I'm not. I just feel...alive. Full of energy."

"Indeed," Sigmund says. "Come. We'll leave Edward to his recovery, and in the meantime you can start learning how to use your new power."

"Power, huh?" Capell says. He shakes his head, then follows Sigmund toward the door. "Wow. This really _will_ be different."

It's true: already Sigmund managed so much, leading the Force by himself -- with two of them, there's no end to what they can do.


End file.
